53. Charleigh

FIFTY-THREE

CHARLEIGH

"The doctor should be with you in a few minutes," I said, voice hollow as I left the patient in the examination room.

River had tried to convince me not to go in to work, but I'd refused, telling him I had no sick time to take. It was the truth, but it didn't have anything to do with the reason I couldn't agree.

I needed to move. To shuck the errant thoughts that had laid siege to my brain and had sunk their talons into my psyche.

Since I'd insisted on going in, Raven had decided she was going to go into work, too.

She'd suggested I drop her off at Moonflower and take her car since I got off earlier, and then I would go back to pick her up at the end of the day.

She'd paused when I'd pulled up outside her shop, and she'd reached out and squeezed my wrist, concern burrowed deep in her brow as she asked, "What's wrong?"

I had barely been able to toss out the lie. "I…I just haven't been sleeping well after everything. I think I just need to get back into a normal routine. Shake myself out of the fear."

She'd nodded and promised, "It's going to be okay."

I wanted it to be .

I wanted to feel okay.

To grasp back onto reality.

But I hadn't been able to escape the thoughts that had plagued me since last night here, either.

They'd followed me throughout the morning.

I moved into the office so I could get the records for Dr. Reynolds' next appointment, and I pulled out the file cabinet drawer labeled T so I could grab Francisca Thomas' chart.

Only I stilled when my fingertips brushed over the name on a tab toward the front.

Tayte, Nolan.

Nerves tumbled through my stomach. What did I think I was doing? But instead of ignoring it and moving on, I glanced behind me to make sure no one else was around and pulled out the file.

It wasn't like I didn't have access to the files or wasn't allowed to look, but it felt like what I was doing was illicit.

Wrong.

With my back to the door, I kept it concealed as I rested Nolan's file on my left arm and flipped it open.

I scanned the information. Name, date of birth, address, family contact.

The inputs in my handwriting that I'd made the first day that I'd met him.

I started to flip through the papers.

His well-checks.

A visit for a fever.

I didn't even know what I was looking for. What I hoped to find.

Until I did.

I'd flipped through the entire stack until I made it to the last page. It was a record of Nolan's very first visit. A well-check of a six-month-old baby boy.

17 lbs. 2 oz, 27.1 inches.

Blue eyes.

Blond hair.

Blond hair .

It felt as if I got socked in the gut.

But what nearly dropped me to my knees was the symbol that had been drawn in the corner.

A haphazard shape clearly drawn by an amateur's hand—Dr. Reynolds' hand.

But there was no mistaking it.

The stacked Ss with the eye in the middle.

The same as River and all his friends had tattooed on the back of their hands.

Oh God. Oh God.

Sweat slicked on my flesh and tears burned at the backs of my eyes.

"Charleigh? What are you doing?"

A gasp ripped out of me, and I whirled around to find Dr. Reynolds standing in the doorway. His hand was on the knob and his face was written in concern. Apprehension curled through his expression when he saw that I was holding a patient file.

"Oh. Nothing. I just was looking for the next patient's chart, and I accidentally grabbed the wrong one." I flipped it closed and turned, trying to get my hands to cooperate as I frantically stuffed it back into its place. I hurried to grab Francisca Thomas'.

Slamming shut the cabinet drawer, I waved the folder high as I whipped around. "Here we are."

A frown pinched tight across his weathered brow. "Are you okay?"

No. I was not okay. I was not okay.

I was crumbling.

Shattering.

I forced a smile. "Of course."

Warily, he nodded. "All right then. I need you to call the lab and ask about the status of Mr. Murray's bloodwork. We should have received it before his follow-up today."

"I'll get right on it."

He hesitated again before he mumbled, "Thank you," and ducked out. I waited until his footsteps retreated down the hall before I scrambled out of the office and hurried to the breakroom. Every molecule in my body shook as I grabbed my purse. I attempted to keep my cool as I crossed the lobby.

But the second I pushed open the front door, I broke into a sprint.

Running to where I'd parked Raven's car, I frantically clicked the locks over and over as I approached, and I fumbled to yank open the door handle. My pulse thundered as I jumped into the car and pushed the button to start it.

I put the car in reverse and whipped out of the parking spot, and my breaths came in shallow, jagged pants as I shifted it into gear and rammed on the gas.

I peeled out as I took to the street.

It was impossible.

Impossible.

I was terrified I was right.

Terrified that I was wrong.

Because how?

How?

Tears blurred my eyes as I flew through Moonlit Ridge. I skidded around a corner, fishtailing as I hit Vista View. But I couldn't slow. Couldn't stop to consider that I was being impulsive and rash.

Desperate was what I was.

Desperate in the truest sense of the word.

I came to a screeching stop in front of River's house, and I jammed at the button on the rearview mirror that lifted the garage. I didn't bother to pull in. I jumped out and ran inside the empty house, quick to punch in the code for the alarm system.

Silence echoed, and for a moment, I slowed, faltering in the hall, not sure what direction to go. Then I gulped the crash of confusion down, and I ran through the house and bounded upstairs.

I went straight to the end of the hall and tossed open the door to River's room.

My gaze raved as I looked around.

I made the quick decision and cut through the en suite bathroom to the walk-in closet at the back .

I tore open the door, scanning, unsure of where to start or what I thought I was looking for. Just knowing I had to do something .

I went to the row of shirts hung on the racks to the right, and I parted the sections, pushing them back to see if anything was behind them.

My stomach twisted when I came up with nothing.

I kept moving, digging through his things, my movements growing more agitated with every second that passed. I tossed his shoes off the shelves and pulled pants from where they were stacked, toppling everything to the ground as I searched.

I wheezed in a torrent of frustration before I moved to the opposite side of the closet and began doing the same.

Ransacking River's things.

There were a bunch of boxes on the top shelf that I could barely reach, and I jumped, knocking them free. I ripped off their lids and dumped their contents onto the floor.

One after another.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Frantic, I searched, ripping through everything I could find.

There was a small box at the back of the top shelf that I couldn't reach, and I used a hanger to drag it free. It toppled off the shelf and onto the floor, and the lid came free when it hit.

The contents spilled out, and for one fleeting second, I froze.

Then I dropped to my knees.

My heart severed down the middle.

Tears poured, so thick that it was difficult to see. But I knew what was strewn out in front of me. A little one-piece outfit. Yellow with a giraffe embroidered on the front. The tiny white Vans.

I choked and gasped as lightheadedness swept through me.

My soul screamed and my spirit wept.

Then I picked up the tiny stuffed dog, woven of blue yarn, and I pressed it to my nose. I inhaled deeply as if it could fill the cavern carved out in the middle of me from the years of loss .

I held onto the puppy as I floundered to my feet and stumbled out of River's room, my shaking hands on the walls to keep myself steady.

Tears kept falling and falling.

Terrified of believing.

The wounds inside me gaped, torn open wide, and I almost tripped over my feet as I raced downstairs and back out the garage door. Raven's car was still idling where I'd left it, and I jumped in and peeled out as I shoved it into reverse. The rear tires slid as I careened up the drive and out onto the street.

I kept trying to sweep the tears out of my eyes as I drove.

Tried to focus.

To see.

To breathe.

I swerved through traffic, driving manic and reckless. But I couldn't wait one second longer. I whipped into an open spot on the street, and I bolted out of the car and ran for River's shop. Without slowing, I tore open the door and staggered inside.

River spun around from where he'd been standing at the display case. Venom curled into his expression, ready to snap into action when he saw the state I was in. Ready to go on a rampage because he'd instantly thought I'd been harmed in some way.

Only he blanched when he saw the stuffed animal I had gripped in my hand, and a different sort of severity blistered across his face and ticked through the muscles of his body.

"Charleigh?"

My name was caution.

Reluctance.

My throat was nearly closed off, but somehow, I managed to force out the garbled words as I gripped at the stuffed puppy as if it could be an anchor.

"Tell me Nolan isn't actually your son. Tell me he's mine."